


this is a cursed au

by vergilia_43



Category: La Divina Commedia | The Divine Comedy - Dante Alighieri
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, College Student Dante, M/M, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:41:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25152577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vergilia_43/pseuds/vergilia_43
Summary: Dante can’t take his eyes off of his TA Vergil.(this is an incredibly cursed concept)
Relationships: Dante/Virgil (La Divina Commedia)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 29





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文-普通话 國語 available: [【授權翻譯】這是一個被詛咒的au](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27870510) by [sofielix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sofielix/pseuds/sofielix)



The lecture hall was typically quiet, save for the typing of 50-odd laptops, the occasional scratching of pens, and the soft voice of the TA. 

Vergil’s Introduction to Epic Poetry classes had its latecomers, like most well-attended classes, but Dante always came a few minutes early to secure his seat near the front. The poor thing spoke so quietly it was nearly impossible to hear the lecture if you sat in the back. Several of Dante’s friends had complained to him about it after class— Dante let them copy his written notes, as long as the notes didn’t have distracting doodles in the margins. 

Because for all the interest he had in the lecture, Dante often found himself sketching Vergil unconsciously instead of taking notes. God, why did he make it so easy to forget about the words he was saying and fixate on the gentle, lilting tune of his voice?

Well, his lips did pronounce Latin phrases effortlessly. There was a certain nonchalant way they slid off his tongue, and the way he used subtle inflections of his voice could make Dante see a line in a whole new light. He read Latin fluently, almost as if he had grown up speaking it. 

Sometimes, in the midst of something he was particularly passionate about, he would lean back against his desk, copy of the text in one hand, steadying himself with the other, and Dante could admire the slight curve of his body as he read. That pose alone filled up more pages of the notebook than he wanted to admit.

True, he often dressed like any other overworked TA. True, sometimes he showed up looking as though he didn’t know how to wear a jacket at all, fidgeting with the hem or the sleeve every couple of minutes. But Dante was more interested in the way he moved as he taught— subtly, confidently, and completely enamored with his subject. (He wondered idly if Vergil ever looked at someone else the way he looked at his worn-out, sticky-noted translation of the Iliad.)

So maybe that was another reason he sat up front— it wasn’t as if Vergil were hard on the eyes.

(His friend Statius, a couple of years ahead of him, had passed on rumors that Vergil was close with another TA, Horace. Dante didn’t believe that for a second. Or wait, maybe it had been the department chair? God, no— he’d throw up if he imagined Professor Maecenas doing anything like that. He vaguely remembered someone else insisting that Vergil did have a boyfriend, he was just off-campus— what was his name? Dante couldn’t recall it— well, then again, Statius had dismissed that idea pretty quickly, and Dante trusted Statius. For whatever reason, Statius seemed oddly confident about these things.)

Dante came back to reality just as Vergil was wrapping up the lecture. He cursed under his breath. All his wondering about Vergil’s love life had caused him to tune out the actual lesson. He glanced down at the empty notes document open on his laptop. The cursor was still blinking on the first line where he’d typed his name, the date, and “TA: Vergil ;)”. 

What had he even gone over? He could ask Vergil after class— yeah, no, and tell him that he hadn’t been paying attention? Vergil would probably want to know why, and the last thing Dante needed was to make Vergil think even less of him. His grade in the class had been falling steadily ever since their first TA, Ovid, had disappeared. The idea of admitting to Vergil that he couldn’t stop admiring him, both for his mastery of poetry and for his ridiculous attractiveness— well, Dante was pretty sure he’d had nightmares about that.

Dante shoved his laptop into his bag. He was determined not to be the last one out of here, especially not alone with Vergil (a very real possibility now, considering the time he’d spent weighing his options). He threw his backpack over one shoulder and began walking to the door. Dante sighed. Stupid hot TA. He was never going to pass this stupid class while Vergil was teaching, apparently. He’d just have to resign himself to retaking Intro to Epic Poetry next semester with Ovid or whoever they got to replace him.

By now, the lecture hall was almost completely empty. Dante began walking faster. He was almost out the door, thanking God that he’d survived another day of class, when—

“Dante?”

Damn it.


	2. it gets cursed-er

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you know those songs you sing at summer camp, the ones where each verse is the same as the first except you sing it louder, quieter, weirder, etc? that’s what this is.
> 
> second chapter!  
> (second chapter!)
> 
> just like the first!  
> (just like the first!)
> 
> except a little more explicit and a lot more cursed!  
> (and a lot more— wait, what?)

He must have come up the aisle while Dante was preparing to leave, and by the look on his face, he wanted to talk. Dante felt his face warm and prayed silently that Vergil wouldn’t notice him flushing. God, why now? And why him, of all people? The last of the students to leave slammed the door behind them, marking Dante as completely and utterly alone in the giant hall. 

Except, of course, for Vergil. Dante wished he could turn back around, pretend he hadn’t seen him, but by now it was too late. He’d already met Vergil’s eyes, which were flitting somewhere between pleasantness and concern. Dante inhaled sharply. He felt his ears reddening under his beanie, which he was suddenly extremely grateful for.

Vergil, for his part, seemed to comprehend Dante’s anxiety. He gave an apologetic sort of smile before continuing. “Do you have a moment to talk?”

“No.” Yes, of course he did. One part of him wanted to tell Vergil that, actually, he had no more classes today (well, that was true), and yes, he would love to talk to him (less true), and, hey, maybe they could even move this little chat to Vergil’s office (uh)— you know, for privacy? (No! No!)

The rest of him, meanwhile, was working more along the lines of “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Get out of here! Fuck!”. It was a far more compelling argument, if less eloquent. Dante took a deep breath.

Well, that was that. He was going to have to escape this hell of a situation. 

Vergil was close enough now that Dante could see his Adam’s apple bob as he spoke. His long fingers danced on the edge of the desk as he spoke, almost as if he were the nervous student instead. (Or maybe he could just throw his backpack as a distraction and run out. Yes, that seemed reasonable right about now.) Dante swallowed and tried to meet his eyes. He wasn’t thinking about the heat spreading through his pants. Not at all. Nor was he thinking about Vergil’s fingers moving their dancing down his buttoned shirt, and then his naked chest. Of course, the fact that he was talking to him wasn’t helping. He hoped fervently that Vergil couldn’t read minds.

“It’s just about your grades in the class, nothing to be embarassed about,” Vergil assured him. Dante let out a small sigh of relief. Okay. Vergil thought he was embarassed about his grade. Cool. He would let him keep thinking that, then. 

“Thanks, but I’ve got to go right now.” A bold-faced lie. “My next class is all the way across campus.” The only thing he was really going to do after this was go back to his dorm and lock the door so his roommate wouldn’t find him rubbing one out to the thought of his TA. 

If Vergil was surprised, he recovered quickly. “I understand,” he said. He spoke even softer now than he had while lecturing. It reminded Dante of whispering, maybe a secret murmured to a friend that you passed in a corridor that you didn’t want anyone else around to know. A private meeting, just the two of you. 

“I have office hours 7-9 tonight and they’re quite poorly attended, if you’d like to stop by...“ Vergil trailed off, as was his habit, but the invitation was understood.

Well, maybe understood was the wrong word to describe the thoughts of him and Vergil in his office alone that suddenly swept Dante’s mind clear of anything else.  


A shiver ran through him involuntarily. It was so easy to imagine himself entering the basement office, smirking a little in anticipation. 

Vergil would be all business, naturally, so Dante would have to ask him to come around the desk, to see the translation he’d been working on. Vergil would lean over Dante’s shoulder, reading, while Dante paid more attention to the shallow breaths on the back of his neck. 

He would settle back in the chair, pressing his head to Vergil’s breast, unable to see the concerned glance Vergil gave him before continuing to read. Of course, he would think he’d misinterpreted the gesture— not that Dante would let him.  


When he moved to turn the page a minute later, Dante would lean forward and rest his hand on Vergil’s ever so gently, like saying please. Vergil’s breath would hitch, imperceptible to anyone else but Dante. 

Finally, their eyes would meet. Vergil’s lips would be parted just the slightest bit with surprise when he saw Dante’s look, and understood for the first time what game they were playing. 

Suddenly, translation was the furthest thing from his mind. Vergil would pull back, embarrassed, murmuring something about fine work and office hours being over, and despite Dante’s protestations, he would carefully close the notebook and place it back on Dante’s lap. Of course, he’d had it on his lap the whole time—he’d kept it there on purpose. Vergil would have to draw in close to read, and so it would seem almost like an accident when his fingers brushed Dante’s half-hard cock. 

Dante would watch his face carefully for when it dropped its guarded curiosity for undisguised want. 

And Vergil would be wearing the same clothes he wore now, only Dante imagined it wouldn’t be long before he ripped them off— until Vergil was standing there, naked before him. He would look down to see Vergil’s cock already erect and throbbing, right before Dante sat on his mess of papers and books and pulled him down into a messy kiss. Dante would let his tongue explore the warm, beautiful mouth that sang Latin so beautifully, and not even pause for breath until the other man broke from him. Vergil would gasp for breath, but Dante would not let go of him. He’d nestle his mouth in the crook of his teacher’s neck and bite it up and down until Vergil was trembling with pleasure and Dante could feel the hot precum dripping down his leg. Once he reached Vergil’s ear, he would whisper into his warm neck, “Fuck me, master.”

And then Vergil would breathe out and bite his neck in return, hard enough to make Dante inhale sharply, then take him by the shoulders, hard, and turn him around until his ass was facing Vergil. Of course Vergil was hard just looking at him, just at the idea that his student wanted to fuck him so badly that he would bend over the desk and beg. “Please, master.” Dante ground his still-clothed hips against Vergil’s pleadingly. “Please—,” he moaned. “Fuck me already.” And Vergil would be happy to comply.

Vergil’s careful, ink-stained hands would press him into the desk as he moved to undo Dante’s belt and free his cock. He would bend him over and slide in two, then three already-oiled fingers until Dante was shaking and whining for more— maybe Vergil told him to shut up in a tone that only made Dante harder, or maybe he grabbed Dante’s discarded knit cap off the floor and stuffed it in his mouth to stop the moans of his student. They would both be aware the door was still unlocked, and any passing stranger could see them, but somehow it didn’t matter.

Vergil laid his hand on Dante’s then— the real Vergil, not the fantasy one. Dante’s attention snapped back to reality, to the flesh-and-blood Vergil who was still waiting for a reply. Shit, what had they been talking about? 

He decided his best bet was to nod dumbly. He didn’t trust himself to speak without sounding like he was being strangled. 

“I’ll take that as a yes to the office hours, then,” Vergil said with a hint of a smile that didn’t help Dante’s predicament at all. God. Dante could only nod again in agreement.

It wasn’t like Vergil could’ve known. In fact, Dante reminded himself, it was physically impossible. No matter how much he insisted there was no way at all, none whatsoever, just before Vergil turned towards his desk, Dante could have sworn he winked.


End file.
